


An eye for an eye

by Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternative Universe - Avvar, Bull is taken as prisonner, M/M, Thane!Cullen, Tumblr Prompt, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness/pseuds/Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness
Summary: The Iron Bull is captured by an Avvar tribe and taken to their thane, Cullen Ar Einbjorn O Skyhold.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: "'Who did it?' For Iron Lion? Maybe make it kinda angsty... :>"

Iron Bull’s head felt fuzzy as he came back to himself. His tongue was puffy from dehydration and blood loss, but the worst was the pain in one of his eyes. Or what used to be his eye.

His arms were bound behind him, all gone numb underneath him. He was being transported somewhere. Last thing he remembered was him hunting in the forest and being jumped by a group of half-naked humans with white war paint. He fought them back out of defense, knowing there was no way to win this fight.

He tried to open his valid eye, but blood had dripped all over his face and dried through his lashes in a crust, making it impossible to move much of his painful face.

He fell back into slumber. The next time he woke up, it was to someone shaking him and forcing him to get up. He groaned, his throat parched. His face appeared to be even more swollen than before, and he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. He stumbled to the ground, his bad knee hitting it painfully, but at this point he couldn’t feel much worse.

He was forced forward, and he blinked a few times before he was able to open his eye. At this point he considered himself lucky he only lost an eye and still had all his limbs. He looked at his surroundings as he was led up a path. They were in a cavern, one that had drawings and furs and other decorations he’d never seen before. Minerals reflected the light of the torches, and Bull came face to face with a beautiful statue of a human before they entered another section of the cavern. This one was much bigger, a fur rug keeping the feet warm and away from the cold stone. There was a long wooden table with food and wine that made Bull’s stomach churn. His cracked lips yearned for water, but he didn’t think it was an option any time soon.

There was an obnoxious throne at one end of the room, made of bones, and the man sitting on it rose up when he saw the group approach. The human was only wearing a loin cloth covering his groin and nothing else. He didn’t appear shy of his impressive musculature, Bull realized, it was just the way it was in this human tribe, with the other humans’ light attire. The man with wheat-colored hair was bearing white war paint across his pale skin, similar to the Qunari’s Vitaar, and a headpiece made of a skull probably indicating he was in charge.

The man took a look at him, confusion turning into anger. One of the other humans approached him and talked in a language Bull didn’t understand. The more he talked, the more the chief’s face twisted with fury. He snapped back something, then turned to the rest of the humans behind him.

The leader repeated the same sentence in an interrogative way. Bull suspected he was questioning who had beaten him half to death. He stayed on the floor, staring at the patterns of the animal’s fur. His bad knee was itching uncomfortably, but he knew better than to try to raise up. He didn’t even stir when the voice became commanding, harsh. Apparently the leader was displeased with the action of his tribe.

His hands were bound and tied to a collar, making it impossible to move his arms, and the pressure on his neck allowed little head movement as well. He wondered where was his axe, if it had been left forgotten back in the forest, or perhaps the iron would be reused for other weapons. He hoped the Chargers would make it without him, he knew they would, but he didn’t think they could follow his tracks all the way to here, especially since he didn’t know where here was.

He was tired as well. Really tired. Bull wanted to sleep the pain off, the throb in his head too much to bear all at once.

He didn’t realize he was falling forward before strong hands stopped him from hitting face first to the ground. Those hands stabilised him and gently cradled his head. Bull cracked an eye open and stared helplessly at the leader as he seemed to ask him a question. He was crouched in front of him, his aura exuding confidence and authority, but he seemed much calmer than previously, his tone almost gentle.

“Are you speaking Trade?” He suddenly changed language, to which Bull grunted an affirmative. “What is your name?”

Iron Bull took a deep breath that came out a bit wet, and he coughed. Cullen hushed something in the other language, his fingers stroking the side of his face where it wasn’t injured, before he was barking some orders at his hunters. The last thing Bull saw was the man’s worried eyes turning to him before he lost consciousness once again.

 

He woke up with a jerk, and hissed when the pain hit him at once. It wasn’t as bad as earlier, fortunately. His wounds had been lathered with a sort of mud to protect them, which wasn’t smelling bad, and his eye had been bandaged, his other eye and face cleaned. His clothes, or what remained of them, had been discarded, and instead he was covered up to the waist with furs.

He was in a small hut, small for him anyway, with other beds like the one he was in, except his had been adjusted to fit his height. Only one other patient was sleeping a little bit further, one of the hunters who attacked him. An eye for an eye. Bull noticed his hands weren’t bound anymore. He was glad he hadn’t been awake when blood had started circulating again in them, it would have been a real bitch.

The leader – or rather the thane, as he came to discover, would come visit him every day, making sure he was as comfortable as he could. He brought him delicious food and drinks, books in Trade so he wouldn’t get bored of his mind, but mostly he would stay with him and they would talk.

His name was Cullen Ar Einbjorn O Skyhold, but his tribe would call him Cullen Steel-Lion. He was ruling over the Skyhold tribe. The hunters had attacked Iron Bull because they thought he was a Qunari spy intruding on Avvar territory. The one responsible for this had been dealt with, or so Cullen assured him. The more they talked, the more Iron Bull was intrigued by this tribe, and especially by Cullen.

A few days later found Iron Bull trying to sit up to change position and move his numb ass, but he was feeling a bit dizzy. He was just getting better from a cold, which was quite unusual for him to have in the first place.

It informed what he thought was the healer, another human with long wheat-like hair, that he was awake from his nap. He rose up and disappeared, only to come back with Cullen. This time he wasn’t wearing his crown, but rather a rich burgundy mantle thrown across his shoulders.

“How are you feeling, The Iron Bull?” He asked in Trade, to which Iron Bull shrugged.

“Getting better.”

They both approached him, and the healer began to check his wounds.  Cullen sat down beside him, not scared of him and uncaring that he was free or bindings. His broad chest was clear of the paint, and Bull noticed the light hair running across his pectorals when he shifted and the light caught through it. With those muscular thighs so close to him, all Bull needed to do was lift his loin cloth a fraction to have a glimpse at what was hidden.

“Tell me, Bull, you are a warrior, yes?”

“I am. I’m normally better at dealing with my enemies, were they not a dozen hunters jumping on me by surprise.”

Cullen said something in his native language, then talked to the healer. It seemed to be a dismissal, as he stepped out of the hut.

“Why not let him stay, it’s not like he can understand us.”

Cullen had an indulgent smile. He took over where the healer had left off and continued to check Bull’s wounds, washing them with a soft cloth dipped in perfumed water. It tingled when it touched his tender skin, but he lived through worse. He stared at Cullen’s handsome face as a distraction.

“Anders speaks Trade. He comes from far away and chose to remain here as my right hand’s partner. You see, there’s an Avvar tradition we follow,” he continued as the cloth slipped from his hand, his fingers tracing the Vitaar on his shoulder, which made Bull involuntarily shiver. “Husbands and wives are normally taken outside the tribe to not mix the same blood. We’ll capture the one who has our interest, court them if they accept or let them return to their people if they wish it so.”

Bull blinked, understanding what he meant. “You want to have me as your husband?”

From the coy look and the blush on Cullen’s handsome face, Bull knew that was it.

“Tell me how that courting works?” Bull inquired as he trailed his hand on one of those lovely thighs.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Captain-Amoruca](http://captain-amoruca.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
